A small excerpt:There was something about the way that Aziraphale caught his eye as he extended the invitation. It made Crowley’s pulse race and his palms sweat. It was a nonsensical reaction, there was nothing about the sentence that warranted any reaction above a bored yawn and sarcastic eye-roll, and yet, he could hardly help noticing how the angel’s cheeks were flushed with anticipation when he said it. [1]

“Crowley, would you like to come over and, uh,” He paused, the tip of his tongue wetting his lips. “Do our taxes?”

What kind of an invitation was that, anyway? Who even did their taxes these days?

Not Crowley, that was for sure. [2]

But saying no to Aziraphale was not something which Crowley was exactly in the habit of doing. No matter how much he delighted in doing exactly the opposite of whatever was generally required or expected of him, that instinctual urge to be a misbehaving little shit had never extended to Aziraphale. Kind of the opposite really, he’d even tried to before and the word had always stuck in his throat. So he stuttered a yes and a half-joking line about bringing the rubber.